Gwyneth Paltrow

She's not in Cate Blanchett territory -- at least not for me -- but despite my general boredom and underwhelmed feelings when it comes to Gwyneth Paltrow, I have to admit that she is good at pulling off clothes that are unusual. So I've been staring at this picture throughout an entire One Tree Hill rerun (seasons may change, but Chad Michael Murray's accidentally vacuous Squint Of Deep Thought is forever) trying to decide whether this is a good risk or a bad one. And so far all I've come up with is that I'm not quite sure, and that I hope Sophia Bush really is dating James Lafferty, because he's way dreamier than her skeevy ex.

Pros: I love navy. It's very sleek and streamlined. And the neckline is sort of sweet.

Cons: The seam in the front bisects her weirdly and I keep thinking it's because someone cut open a jumpsuit sewed it into a skirt; it's pulling around her groin; she looks SO barely-there-slim that she's almost a bobblehead, and the bow tie and ribbony bits actually seem to walk the very wobbly line between "sweet" and "twee," and may have passed out in a whiskey-sodden stupor on the wrong side.

Oh, GWYNNIE. You really took everyone squawking about your ultra-mini mini-dresses to heart, didn't you?

And, on a personal note, I'd just like to say that I am going to miss you when your PR obligations for Iron Man are over and you go back to transcribing macrobiotic meal delivery menus into calligraphy so as to make them appropriately upscale before you stick them to the front of your refrigerator, or whatever it is you're doing most of the time now. No one can find exquisite, expensive, super-high fashion clothing that almost succeeds, yet still brings with it a strong stench of total wackadoo the way you do. It's been fun, don't you think?

Gird your loins -- with Iron Man hitting theaters this weekend, we're going to continue seeing a lot of Gwyneth Paltrow. 

And I do mean a lot. Gwynnie must've gone on a Gam Rediscovery Retreat recently, because she's been skipping all around town in the kind of short skirts we're  more used to seeing ride up around the pantyless pelvises of Young Hollywood as they slide out of cars.

Not that it's all a complaint. The girl's got great legs. It's just that I'm not always sure about the stuff she's using to show them off to us.

It's short, but more distracting is all the lattice work. Like, is there a nude slip under there, or is she just feeling naked and racy today? Am I bewitched by an optical illusion, or is it cutting her chest weirdly around her armpits and making her look unnaturally bulgey in places where, in reality, she almost certainly has no bulge? Doesn't that Bermuda Triangle of fabric on her groin make it look like she's wearing a black cloth diaper? And is there a weird face staring at me from her boobular region? And In concept I wanted to love this, but in life, it's like wearing a Rorschach ink blot. I feel like people were coming up to her all night and saying, "Ooh, it's death! The Angel of Death!" or "I see a Rolls Royce!" or "Is that a DOG that looks like Princess Leia?"

Maybe Gwynnie just really likes people staring at her in bewilderment, as I did yet again when I saw this dress from earlier:

As previously mentioned, I am suffering from a wee bit of the jet lag, which forced me to hallucinate that Kelly Osborne was wearing some wack-a-doo detached hoodie thing. But this -- though awfully Spawn Of Marion Cottilard And Fishnet Stockings -- looks kind of great, right?

RIGHT?

This is the day of the week where I admit something embarrassing, and today, it's that I am that person in America who loves Gwyneth. I know, I know: She's got a rep for being snotty and snobby and icy and whatnot, but I can not help it. I love her. Even when her head is apparently floating a full foot in front of her neck:

I know. She has a floating head, and I suspect she's able to "simplify everything," as she says on the cover, because....oh, I don't know....maybe because SHE'S LOADED? Money can't buy everything,  but it CAN pay for someone to water your lawn and buy your Mini Wheats and fold your underpants and I bet we'd all be able to more easily juggle our families and our jobs if we didn't have to run to the laundromat and the corner store all the damn time.  Ergo, I can understand why some people out there in the wide world might read this and kind of want to kick old GP in the shins. But I can't help it.  I just look at her and WANT TO BUY THE MAGAZINE. I don't even know WHY.  It's like that weird thing I have with Lohan, except for how Paltrow is like THE EXACT opposite of Lohan. On the other hand, I do wish there was an article in here explaining how I, too, can have that floating head.

Disclaimer: I believe -- and this will not be controversial -- that Heidi Klum has great legs. They are an international treasure. She should not be ashamed of them, and if I could have mine amputated and replaced with hers, I would happily do it even if it meant selling my kidneys.

However, if I were Heidi Klum and I were at a Gucci event that took place at the United Nations -- hosted by Madonna and benefiting UNICEF -- I might consider wearing more than a glorified shirt.

This reminds me of that scene in Clueless where Cher tells her skeptical father of her white micro-mini, "It's a dress," and her dad Dan Hedaya replies, "Says who?" And Cher replies, "Calvin Klein!" I am assuming Gucci helped outfit Ms. Klum-Seal, and I kind of want to remind her that just because Gucci claims it's a dress, that doesn't make it so. When she sits down at dinner it's going to look like she's on the commode. I find myself HOPING she's got a pair of hot pants under there, and I generally NEVER hope for hot pants unless they're associated with a Baby Phat show or an episode of Passions in which Tabitha turns everyone into pieces of clothing in a stripper's closet. Having legs for days is a blessing, but that doesn't mean you can't take at least ONE of those days off, know what I mean?

Apparently it was catching. Behold Gwyneth Paltrow, generally someone who appears to take herself way too seriously to let much of anything hang out:

I've already pointed out how Gwynnie Paltrow totally looks like a dude on the cover of this month's W. In fact, a couple of brilliant readers wrote in to point out that not only does she look like a dude, she looks like Death Eater and noteworthy blond, Lucius Malfoy, which is one of those cross-pop-cultural references I really wish I'd thought of on my own.

Now, generally, we don't talk about editorial spreads in fashion magazines, because, you know, the models are supposed to look all hunched over and pained, whilst wearing pig heads or pretending to be dead or whatever. That's just the way it works, and it's often rather cool and fantastical or, at the very least, moderately diverting on an airplane.

On the other hand, do we ever need to see a shot of Gwyneth Paltrow petulantly feeding a rat from sippy cup while making what I presume is an nude dead-lip-hating bitchface?

No.

Nor do we ever need to see her with what appear to be spoons for ears:

Sure, I suppose it's possible to draw  a line between these two photographs that encompasses some sort of weird Kafka-meets-Stuart Little tale, in which Gwynnie both nurtures the rat and BECOMES the rat, but it is my contention that a fashion spread which would work well enough with a random gorgeous blank-faced model just feels almost unbearably pretentious with an actress. We get it, Gwyns: you're deep. I liked you better when you wouldn't shut up about yoga.

I feel like I make an embarrassing revelation in this space about every three weeks. The whole Ghost Whisperer thing being the most embarrassing thus far.  But here's another one: I like Gwyneth Paltrow.  I know she's been accused of snobbery, pretentiousness, being an unbearable beeyotch, being annoyingly obsessed with macrobiotics, being the first major celeb to widely publicize the Brazilian and thus dooming legions of women to the agony of ripping out every hair they have with hot wax, etc, etc, etc and I don't doubt that all these things are true. But I think she's pretty, and I (used to) love her hair (would it kill her to get a trim?), and Apple was my most favorite celebrity child until Suri Cruise came along and bewitched me with her adorableness, and her outfits in The Talented Mr Ripley are AMAZING.

Which is why I was rather stunned to see her looking like this on the cover of W:

She is literally unrecognizable. I know her name is right there, splashed across her chest, but I am still not entirely sure that this is her. I feel like it might actually be a dude. A totally fierce dude, yes, but a dude just the same. And while I actually long for the day when a totally fierce dude lands on the cover of W, I really don't think Gwynnie wanted people to have to stare at her face for twenty minutes, reconfiguring it in their minds, so as to convince themselves that it was actually her. If this is the way she's gearing up for a comeback, as the cover promises,  that comeback is going to crash and burn.

Now, here's the thing. I secretly love Gwyneth Paltrow. I know! I know. But I do. I can't help it. She has such pretty hair. She's so Ralph Lauren-looking, all fresh-faced and clean. She looks like she smells like expensive soap.

Except for here:

Gywnie, Gywnie.  Why are you such a gloomy gauchos? All wrinkly and glum? Buck up! Things aren't so bad that you have to start dressing like an East German ice dancing judge circa 1982.

But your hair is still very pretty.